Monday, August 17, 2009

My cat is a crazy bitch and I can't write. Of course, it occurs to me that that sentence would be equally true if reversed.

I have a block. I am blocked. I can't even write in my journal, because the pens are too scritchy and the air is too moist and Tropical Storm Claudette is making my ass hurt and I am on my Period (sorry boys) and because of that I am so puffy, so bloated, if anyone saw me they'd think I just got off a five day bender. I only wish I had knees. You can call me M. E. Puff-in-stuff. I should be in burka, but as I am not Muslim, I am in a dress that is both too short and too wide. It reminds me of the dress Kurt Russell tried to pass off to Goldie Hawn in Overboard that inspired her to say, "I was a short..... fat..... lush?"

Really, the reason I can't write is because nothing is going on with me. I've decided that if anyone asks me what I've been up to lately I'm going to say Oh, you know, bringing sexy back but that is simply not true. I'm unemployed and under stimulated. I dropped off some resumes last week and one place told me to call back tonight so the fantasy is they'll say Yes! We'd love to hire you! You start next week! because I need the job and God forbid they want me to come in tomorrow before the swelling goes down. If they could see me now they'd say Oh, I'm sorry, we just don't have room for the Macy's Day Parade right now, but check back around Thanksgiving! Of course, there's a huge possibility that they will have already hired Boo-Boo the disher's cousin and they'll have forgotten me entirely. There is always that.

So as I have nothing to say, here are some things that I've been thinking about lately:

(1) When you buy trail mix from the health food store it tastes like what it is: dried fruit and nuts. The fruit is chewy and sweety sourish and the nuts are crunchy and meaty. It is delicious and it makes you feel very earthy and righteous, like maybe you are a lumberjack or Jesus or a Lumberjack For Jesus, or maybe a Norwegian. When you buy trail mix from the drugstore or the gas station, no matter what, it tastes like it was made in an airport out of great plastic vats that have been sitting open long enough to absorb a smell of carpet and desperation, and for the fruit to become hard and the nuts to become soft and banal. It tastes as though a donut has farted in it.

(2) Do you remember those commercials for Summer's Eve (at least I think it was Summer's Eve) where the girl goes to her mother and says, Mom? Do you ever have that.... not so fresh feeling? I think about those commercials a lot. They came out when I was a child and they scared me. I wondered if being afraid of the smell of your own vagina was an inevitability of growing up. Now I know that if you have a not so fresh feeling that can't be taken care of by a shower, chances are you are a skanky bitch. You need to go to the doctor. Really. Also, how vague were those commercials? It wasn't exactly obvious that they were talking about the vagina. If I was the mom I'd be like, Maybe you need to shave your armpits because that is what I do when I have a not so fresh feeling and it works. Those commercials would have sold a lot more douche if they showed only men saying, Bob, I can always smell my girlfriend's vagina. THAT would've sold SHIT TONS of Summer's Eve! Or even Summer's Eve- it's a shower for your cunt! Truth in advertising.

(3) Fashion forecast: Skinny jeans and sushi are on their way out. They will try to sell you last year's skinny jeans but do not fall for it. Chances are you have a butt and some thighs maybe and they make you look like a triangle. Give them to your little brother because even if he is fat, they will look better on him. And he will need them because I think they are going to try to bring back pleated pants, which won't go over well because no one ever liked them to begin with. They have the charm of a belted garbage bag and the added bonus of creating a pocket of moist heat in your crochular area, which may give you a not so fresh feeling and will inspire a resurgence of Summer's Eve and fungal sprays. This may be good for the economy because it will force you to buy things to correct the problems that other things you bought will bring, but that does not mean it will be a Good Idea. Ass shorts will give way to stretch pants, yoga will give way to ballet, and Thai food will be the new sushi, which means that the approximately 425 new sushi restaurants in Tallahassee will be SOL but you can eat all the pad thai you want because you will only look as fat as everyone else in your pleated pants.

Okay, that's it. Three observations are pretty much my max. I'll keep you posted on my possible employment. Hopefully soon I'll have something worthy to write about. Here's a challenge to all who wish to accept: Try to bring sexy back. Report. 500 words or less. Good Luck! (Successes and failures welcomed equally. Roll Up The Rugs is not responsible for any injury due to attempts to bring sexy back. Pictures appreciated.)

Miss Maybelle, thinkin bout stuff

Those Rugs Gettin' Mighty Dusty

Rugs hold onto dirt and catch your high heels. I have no time for rugs, let's roll them on up. Let's throw some sawdust on the floor. Let's put some music on. Let's wake the children, rouse the neighbors, and see who has the rhythm in 'em. It's time to dance.